


kangaroo mistletoe

by spearbi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: !!! love that, M/M, Mistletoe, Oblivious Chan, a LIL bit spicy but not rly, christmas drabble, i want fried chicken now, kissin, to celebrate dec 1st, wingman skiz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearbi/pseuds/spearbi
Summary: Chan slowly looks upwards- and yup, there's the mistletoe, hanging lopsidedly above him and Minho like a green harbinger of doom. He stares at it for a few long moments before looking over at Minho, and then back up at the dangling green plant again.“Uh,” He chokes out, suddenly feeling very hot in his winter clothing.Minho grins at him innocently, his eyes dark.





	kangaroo mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> just a quick thing! happy dec 1st <3

When Chan gets back from getting takeout, he immediately notices that something is off. The other eight boys are all lounging in the common area in what seems to be a tranquil state of laziness- _but something isn’t quite right_ , he thinks. The biggest tip-off is that Seungmin is holding his Nintendo upside down, his gaze not even fixed on the flickering screen. Chan winces at the acrid scent of smoke lingering in the air. _If they've lit another piece of furniture on fire, I swear to god I’m retiring._

“Hey, I’m back,” He calls, kicking off his shoes as best he can without jostling the bags in his hands too much. “The regular fried chicken place was closed today, so I tried out a new place. Still smells good, though.” 

Seungmin, Jeongin, and Hyunjin whip their heads around to stare at him with wide eyes before bursting into a bout of extremely suspicious giggles. Felix and Jisung peer over the back of the big worn couch, eyes glimmering with barely restrained mirth. Jisung’s hair is full of lopsided little braids- Felix’s’ doing, no doubt.

Minho saunters up, all feline grace and fluid movement. _A dancer’s walk._ He’s changed out of his practice clothing into something looser- a faded blue t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. Chan’s eyes lock in on the smooth curve of the other man’s collarbone before he forcibly tears his eyes away. 

_Not in front of the children, Christopher._

Minho lifts up one of Chan’s mitten clad hands, peering into the plastic bag with narrowed eyes. “Did this new place have the salt and vinegar stuff?” He flicks his eyes up to meet Chan’s, his long eyelashes brushing up against his brow.

“Yeah,” Chan stammers, feeling a little pinned by the dancer’s gaze, “I knew you like that flavour the most, so I made sure I went to one that had that.” 

From the kitchen, Changbin cackles loudly, and Woojin whacks him on the shoulder to shut him up. Chan narrows his eyes. Something is definitely going on. “What happened while I was out? You guys are acting weird.” 

Jisung shrugs nonchalantly and crosses his arms, leaning his head back against Felix’s’ leg so the younger boy can add another braid into his hair. “Nothing much. We put up some Christmas stuff, I finally cleaned my part of the room, and Seungmin and Hyunjin tried to make sugar cookies.” 

_So that’s why the air smells like smoke._

“And,” Jisung adds with a toothy grin, “We put up mistletoe.” 

Chan’s stomach drops. “Mistletoe?” He squeaks, nearly dropping the bags of chicken. “Why on earth would you put that up?” 

Felix hums mildly, fingers clumsily piecing together Jisung’s hair. “Oh, you know. Australian tradition and all that.” 

“Hanging up mistletoe is not exclusively an Australian tradition!” Chan hisses, shooting a baleful glare in the other Aussie’s direction. “Not once did my family ever put up mistletoe!” 

“Shouldn’t you be asking _where_ the mistletoe is?” Seungmin says, button smashing keys on the Nintendo with one hand while he pats Hyunjin’s head with the other. Chan growls quietly before giving in. “Fine. Where’s the mistletoe?” 

Everyone bursts into snickers. Minho smiles, close lipped and satisfied. “Look above you.” 

With a resigned sigh, Chan slowly looks upwards- and yup, there it is, hanging lopsidedly above him and Minho like a green harbinger of doom. He stares at it for a few long moments before looking over at Minho, and then back up at the dangling green plant again. “Uh,” He says, suddenly feeling very hot in his winter clothing. 

Minho grins at him innocently, his eyes dark. 

“ _Kiss!_ ” Jeongin screeches joyfully, slapping his hands against the ratty fabric of the couch. “You have to!” Changbin peeks around the kitchen entrance, a smirk on his face, and Woojin peers out grinning as well. 

Chan has been the leader of this group for almost a year now. He’s performed elaborate songs and dances in front of thousands of people and composed dozens of tracks- but right now, in this moment, he feels more nervous than he ever has.

“Well,” Minho says quietly, eyes dancing, “Are you going to give me a kiss or not?” 

_Traitors_ , Chan thinks vengefully, doing his best to disintegrate the seven other members with the force of his gaze before replying to Minho. “Fine.” 

Everyone bursts into cheers and shouts. Seungmin throws his Nintendo aggressively against the opposite couch and fist pumps wildly. Chan closes his eyes and gathers up the last scraps of his dignity. “On the _cheek_ ,” He says firmly. The room fills with disappointed groans. Felix drops his face into his hands. 

“I thought for sure this would work,” He thinks he hears Hyunjin mutter to Seungmin. 

Chan can feel Minho staring at him, can feel the brunette’s gaze burning holes into the side of his face, but he chooses to ignore it. _Best not to make a total fool of myself in front of him._

He doesn’t know when he started to become painfully aware of the younger man’s presence- maybe it was somewhere in between sweat-soaked dance practices and quiet, fleeting moments that Chan can’t stop thinking about. It’s kept him up late into the early hours of the morning, staring blankly at his notebook. He’s always known that he’s found men attractive; however, he’s only ever dated women. There’s something about Minho, though, that makes his chest ache and his mouth dry. He’s the loveliest, oddest person that he’s ever met. 

Minho likes oversized sweaters and the smell of new shoes, refuses to open umbrellas inside, and makes sure to pet every cat he sees. Lee Minho is beautiful and strange, and Chan itches to reach out and touch him, aches to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him senseless. 

But he can’t make himself do it. 

“Chan?” Minho says softly, eyes sad and a little disappointed. Chan steels himself and leans in to drop a quick and chaste kiss onto the brunette’s cheek. Minho smells like cedar and clean sweat; it makes Chan’s head spin. He averts his eyes, draws back quickly, and clears his throat. 

The room is quiet.

“There. You guys want to eat now?” 

Minho makes an irritated noise and spins on his heel, stalking into the kitchen. A brief silence fills the common area, broken first by Jisung. The copper haired teenager carefully gets up and heads to the kitchen with a quiet “I’ll set the table.” The rest of the group follows suit, each member giving Chan a disappointed look. 

Woojin appears out of nowhere to take a bag from one of Chan’s hands. “Why am I always the bad guy?” He says, frustrated. 

Woojin shoots him a pitying look. “You’re not a bad guy, dude. You’re just really oblivious.” 

“Oblivious?” Chan echoes, but Woojin has already disappeared into the kitchen. With a heavy sigh, Chan follows suit. 

Dinner is chaos as per usual, but both Minho and Chan are noticeably subdued, both picking at their plates. 

“Jesus,” Changbin mutters around a mouthful of chicken. “I knew Chan was bad at picking up on stuff like this, but I didn’t know that he was this bad.” 

Jisung shakes his head in agreement, giving their leader a side-eye. “He’s an idiot.” 

Chan knows that he’s fucked up. Somehow. Minho refuses to so much as breathe in his direction, and he disappears to his room right after dinner. He knows he’s going to have to apologize to Minho eventually, but he procrastinates, sticking around to help Jeongin and Hyunjin do the dishes and clean the kitchen. 

Eventually Seungmin kicks him out with a slap to the ass and a low “You better go talk to him.” 

Chan just nods, wipes his sweaty palms on his sweatpants, and makes his way down the dimly lit hallway, his heart racing. He must have made Minho uncomfortable somehow- _maybe Minho knew Chan liked him_ \- was he disgusted? Did Chan put him on edge? 

The door to Minho’s room is closed, but when Chan tentatively raps against the wood, a muffled voice answers almost immediately. “Come in.” Breath caught in his throat, Chan slowly opens the door. The room is dark, the only source of light coming from the window, and Minho is lying curled up on the bed, the blanket pulled tight over him. Chan awkwardly sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded tightly in his lap. He’s nervous. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Chan murmurs, peeking over to the still, Minho shaped mass of blankets. “I wasn’t trying to- I won’t do it again.” The sheets rustle as Minho sits up, pulling the blankets off of his face. His hair is disheveled, cowlicks sticking up. Chan wants to touch them. 

“What do you mean, uncomfortable? You kissed me on the cheek.” 

Chan folds his arms. “Then what did you want?” 

Minho throws his hands upwards, the textbook definition of exasperation. “I wanted you to kiss me on the _mouth_ , you fool! Not a cowardly kiss on the cheek!” 

“What?” Chan says faintly, hearing the words as through from a very great distance. Minho lets out a little shriek and buries his face in his hands. 

“I _like_ you! You _like_ me! I don’t understand why you’ve been skirting around this for literal months- it’s driving me insane,” Minho hisses, dropping his hands to glare at Chan. Minho likes him? 

“You like me?” Chan says aloud, looking as though he’s been hit over the head with a very heavy object. Minho lets out a wet laugh and nods his head violently. 

“Yes, Chan. I like you. I like you like you. And I would very much like to kiss you now, if you don’t have any objections.” 

“No- Nope. No objections from me,” Chan says, squeaking a little as Minho reaches over to fist a hand in his hoodie and pull him into a kiss. _Oh, this is nice_ , Chan thinks, closing his eyes. Minho is a very good kisser- it’s maybe the best kiss Chan has ever experienced and he’s kissed a lot of people. Minho’s lips are soft and warm, and when he pushes past the seam of Chan's lips and licks into Chan’s mouth, he can feel himself melting into the bed. One of Minho’s hands snakes around Chan’s waist, the other reaching up to tug gently on his curls. Hands shaking, Chan brings his own hands to rest on Minho’s hips, pulling him closer.

It’s a little less chaste, now; a bit wetter, a lot hotter. With a flush of embarrassment, Chan realizes that he’s making tiny little gasping noises. He digs his hands into the firm muscle of Minho’s lower back, drawing a low whine from the younger man. It’s dizzying, and Chan presses himself close and tight against Minho’s chest, biting gently at his lower lip. Minho breaks away to mouth at the column of Chan’s neck, breath puffing hot and fast against the skin there. 

“Oh wow, that was fast. They’re really going at it.” 

Sputtering, Chan and Minho leap apart as if on fire. Hyunjin and Felix are standing there, laughing into their arms and making obnoxious kissing noises. Chan can feel his face turning tomato red, and is silently grateful for the darkness of the room. 

“Hyunjin, Felix,” Minho says tiredly, his fists clenched, “I am going to fucking tear you from limb to limb.” Hyunjin shrieks with equal parts fear and delight as the brunette leaps off of the bed to chase him. 

Chan sits in the dark room in shocked silence. Seungmin pokes his head into the room and flashes him a brief thumbs up before moving on. 

Chan touches his kiss swollen lips softly, a little grin creeping across his face. The door creaks, and he looks up as Minho steps back inside the room, looking for all intents and purposes as though he’s just won Olympic gold. 

“Hey,” Chan says, smiling crookedly up at Minho. The other man smiles back, eyes lidded. “Where were we, again?” 

Minho throws himself into the blonde’s lap, letting out a contented sigh. “I think we were right about _here_.” He nips at Chan’s neck, huffing in amusement as he shivers. 

_Well, then_ , Chan thinks hazily, hands reaching up to card through Minho’s hair, _It looks as though this is going to be a very good Christmas._


End file.
